


I saw Gold in the right eye of the Skull

by duesternis



Category: One Piece
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norland remembers visiting the Golden City in his last hours.<br/>Calgara accompanied him that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I saw Gold in the right eye of the Skull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CuraAtlanticus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuraAtlanticus/gifts).



> A gift for my nii-san

The sun was shining outside, letting dust dance in her rays.  
Norland sat on the bare wooden chair they had given him, at the bare wooden desk and twirled his quill in his right hand.  
His log book stared up at him. The date in the leftmost column, the place in the one next to it.  
Hopefully the coordinates were correct. Norland wasn‘t quite sure where exactly in the castle-complex he was.  
The feathers at the top of his quill shone gold for a second, reflecting the sunlight brightly.  
A smile twisted over his bruised face. Pulled at the cut on his cheekbone and the split lip. A drop of blood sneaked its way on Norland‘s tongue.  
Tears gathered in his eyes and he looked out of the window, up into the blue sky. Soft clouds were drifting alongside with birds.  
Like huge white ships and dolphins accompanying them. Like children bustling around the skirt of their mother.  
Someone outside, below in the courtyard, laughed, a bright piercing sound. Another person joined.  
It somehow calmed Norland.  
 It made him sure of the fact that life would go on after today. The baker at the market would sell his bread, the woman with the vegetable-booth would sell her perfect pumpkins.  
His daughter would go to school.  
His wife would still smooth the table-cloth before every meal.  
His men would still go out and sail, on different ships with other captains.  
There would just be one man less walking the streets of Livneel, sailing the oceans of the world.  
And one man more or less really didn‘t make that much of a difference in the end.  
Norland blinked into the sun and a tear broke free. The paper drank it hungrily. As if it were dying of thirst, urgently gathering up every bit of moisture it could find.

It reminded Norland of the way Calgara had looked at him.  
He closed hiy eyes and made himself recall every detail of Calgara‘s face.  
The fierce jawline, as if cut from stone.  
The red tattoos, lines of battle and victory and pride.  
The black eyes, warm and deep and cold and hungry.  
The cloud of hair, soft and wild.  
The wide grin, as if taken from a god.  
The proud nose, giving a sense of regality to his whole face.  
The ears, perking out from the red hair, slightly pointed at the tip.  
The lips.  
The neck.  
The broad shoulders.  
The wings.  
The arms.  
The soft hands.  
The waist.  
The hipbones.  
The thighs.  
The back.  
The backside.  
The soft sway of controlled power in every step down those stairs.

Sunlight tinting Calgara‘s skin like gilded bronze, making his hair look aflame.  
Norland walking half a step behind him, following him down into the old city, into the golden light.  
Calgara‘s spear making a soft noise on the golden floor as he puts it down. That is unusual. Normally he never gives it out of hand, not if he isn‘t hundredtwenty percent sure that there is no need for it.  
Calgara looks at Norland over his shoulder, face half obstructed by the thick hair falling over his back. Norland smiles at him and Calgara smiles back. His canines catching softly on his lower lip, stretching it.  
There is a colour in Calgara‘s eyes Norland hasn‘t seen before. A dark brown, like wet earth, rich soil.  
Norland‘s heels click on the golden cobbles and the stairs leading up to the bell.  
He traces the intricate symbols on the rim and gently rasps his knuckles over the gold. It rings softly, faintly, like the echo of a thought.  
Norland knows that Calgara is standing behind him, just at his shoulder. Not that he has heard him, not that he can hear him now.  
But he feels the static between their bodies, the heat accumulating.  
He swallows, licks his lips and closes his eyes for a moment.  
Then he turns around and lets his shoulder connect with Calgara‘s warm chest.  
Laughs and pats his upper arm. Says something insignificant, letting his fingers linger on the tattoos snaking over Calgara‘s biceps.  
Calgara‘s eyes, crinkled by a laugh, stick to Norland‘s.  
They stand next to the bell and Norland wants to hold his breath and make time stop that way. Calgara seems to be thinking the same thing, because he stops breathing. Instead he holds on to Norland‘s elbows, gently digging his thumbs into the muscles under the shirtsleeves.  
Norland‘s hand drags over Calgara‘s arm to his shoulder, through the hair resting on the broad expanse of skin there, only to come to rest at the nape of his neck.  
The skin is warm under the hair and Norland wants to smell it, taste it.  
Far off a bird sings in the jungle and the wind licks over the golden roofs, whistling a quiet tune.  
Norland shifts in Calgara‘s hands and suddenly they both surge forward, foreheads connecting loudly.  
They inhale the same air, eyes still locked.  
Norland‘s hand is cupping Calgara‘s skull like something precious and Calgara is holding on to Norland‘s shoulders for dear life.  
They tilt their heads at the same time and the sun breaks on the bell.  
Their two shadows, stark black against the gold, melt together, indistinguishable.  
Norland tangles his hands in Calgara‘s thick hair, Calgara wants to mirror the gesture and has to grin against Norland‘s mouth.  
Norland laughs into Calgara‘s and starts to rub along the tattoos on Calgara‘s skin. Ruffles the feathers on the wings gently in the process and licks the moan that pulls from Calgara‘s lips away.  
Calgara tears at Norland‘s shirt, ripping the seams at the shoulders, wanting to feel the warmth of his friend unobstructed.  
They break apart for less than a second and Norland pulls his shirt off. Throws himself at Calgara, making them topple down the stairs.  
The gold is warmed by the sun and Calgara laughs against Norland‘s skin. Norland kisses Calgara‘s shoulder and drags his hands over his chest.  
Calgara‘s long legs come around Norland and he twists them over, until Norland is lying on the warm floor.  
Calgara straddling his hips.  
Norland licks his lips, mumbles something naughty and watches Calgara blush a deep red. He sneaks his hands under Calgara‘s breechcloth and unties the chaps, slowly pulling the soft leather string holding them together out of the lacing.  
Calgara‘s hands flex against Norland‘s chest and a grin sneaks around the edges of his mouth.  
Norland mirrors it and pulls the chaps away. The soft leather falling to the floor almost soundlessly.  
Calgara shifts, pulling his legs in and sits crosslegged on Norland‘s stomach. Skirts forwards and Norland undoes his own beltbuckle, shimmies out of his pants. Calgara rides his every movement, his cheeks still flushed.  
Norland‘s hands find Calgara‘s waist and the breechcloth below, resting on his hipbones. The knot holding it in place is easily undone.  
For a moment it seems as if Calgara wants to stall Norland‘s hands but the sun blinks behind a cloud and the last piece of clothing between them falls away.  
Norland sits up, making Calgara stand.  
Calgara pulls Norland up from the ground and they look at each other. An arm-length apart from each other they share a smile and hold hands.  
Memorize the way the sun breaks on already sweaty skin, the way muscles move under that sunslicked skin.  
The way heat gathers between them, making the air seem thick and almost static.  
Norland reaches out and touches Calgara‘s hipbone.  
Calgara reaches out and touches Norland‘s hipbone.  
They can‘t say who pulled whom in, but their chests touch and they kiss for the second time.  
They taste fruit and salt and the rolling heat of desire. Calgara‘s teeth nick Norland‘s lip and copper drags itself over the other tastes.  
Calgara encloses Norland in his arms and slowly lowers the two of them to the ground again.  
They kneel across from each other, hugging, cheeks rested against each other.  
There is no need for words.

Not even when desire burns so hot between them, that they forget where they are.  
Calgara‘s fingernails dig crescent moons, crimson, into Norland‘s shoulders.  
Norland‘s thumbs smear bruises into Calgara‘s hips, midnightblue by dusk.  
Norland‘s lips are hot on Calgara‘s skin, sucking and kissing shamelessly in a display of endless desire.  
Calgara holds on to Norland with every ounce of strength he can muster up, keeping him close to his heart and making every groan sound through his chest and creep under Norland‘s skin.  
Norland will never again get the sound of Calgara out from under his skin.  
Calgara will never again get the feeling of Norland out from under his skin.

The sun stands high above them and lets the gold shine so perfectly that Norland can‘t help the tears spilling along with their release.  
Calgara‘s eyes are closed and his face looks so divine Norland fears to kiss him.  
He still does.

They ring the bell together, naked and sweaty, lips swollen, skin bruised from loving too much.  
A flock of birds takes off from the grove in the Golden City and sings against the sinking sun.  
The tilted rays let dust dance in them and make the sweat on Calgara‘s skin shine like molten gold.  
It takes Norland‘s breath away.

Norland opened his eyes and was surprised to see how high the sun already stood.  
They would come to collect him soon.  
With the memory of the taste of sweat on his tongue and the ghost of a warm touch on his shoulders Norland dipped his quill into the black ink.  
Carefully shook any abundant ink off and set the quill on the paper.  
Inhaled.  
Wrote.  
Put the quill down and raised the log book to blow against the ink.  
They hadn‘t given him sand to dry the ink properly.  
He set the book down again, dropped the quill atop of it and read the line he wrote again and again.  
With every time that the words dragged through his mind his throat got tighter.  
His knuckles whitened under the pressure with which Norland balled his fists.  
The salt in his eyes burned like fire and he blinked, letting it fall on the thirsty paper like the awaited rain after a drought.  
The ink smeared in two or three places.

The door in Norland‘s back opened and he stood, eyes glued to the book.  
They were dry now.  
He turned around and walked the few steps to the door, let his hands be bound and was shoved into the hallway.  
The door to his cell remained open, letting sunlight filter into the twilit hallway.  
Inside the cell the sun illuminated the open logbook.  
The quill on the page shone warmly.  
One of the teardrops was still wet. It had replaced the period at the end of the line Norland had written.

 

„I saw gold in the right eye of the skull.“


End file.
